


Nerves

by BloodyMary, Shanxara



Series: Life and Times of Gretchen Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: After Redcliffe, Comfort, Drama, Gen, The future sucks, nervous breakdown, parental figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMary/pseuds/BloodyMary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanxara/pseuds/Shanxara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Herald of Andraste is not always prepared for the things life throws at her. Good to know someone will offer a shoulder to cry on...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nerves

There was a pattern forming and she heartily disliked it.

It had started when she had entered the remains of the temple of sacred ashes, smelling charred bone and evaporated blood, seeing bodies frozen in rigid poses of horror, empty eye sockets staring at her full of loathing and accusation. ‚Why do you live when we died?‘

She had been a sheltered girl. She had killed a demon in her Harrowing, but she could not watch when the cooks slaughtered chickens. This was just too much. So really, was it all that terrible that she had had to find a corner and vomit up whatever was in her stomach? Not that there had been anything except for saliva and gall, making the experience painful in addition to humiliating.

And when they had found the hut in Redcliffe and discovered what the Venatori had used the Tranquil for, even Sera had been utterly shaken. So her stumbling outside and disposing of her breakfast under a bush really had not been that outlandish.

Except now it was the third time that she knelt on the ground watching the contents of her stomach for a little pool in front of her and she was sick of it in more than one way.

Really. A pattern. Making her a wuss. A blob. Spineless. A baby.

Tears of humiliation started to run down her cheeks.

Then, gentle hands settled on her shoulders to steady her and keep her from falling face first into her mess. A cup filled with water appeared in her field of vision and she took it with shaking hands to rinse her mouth and dump the rest over her head to clear it. She was half aware of someone speaking to her, nothing of consequence, just calming nonsense like, „it’s alright, don’t worry, you’ll be fine.“

That was the other part of the pattern. Solas helping her without judging, or belittling her, or showing any kind of disdain. He had been there at the temple, in Redcliffe, and he was there now, after the King and Queen of Ferelden had taken their leave and she had actually defied Cassandra to help the mages. And while this latest moment of patheticness had been mostly caused by the horror of the future still looping behind her eyes, standing up to a King and a Super-Templar had not helped matters.

Neither did the fact that the elf who just now helped her up and led her over to a bench in the castle yard had only minutes ago lain face down and dead in front of her. Her mind understood the concept of timetravel, but her heart was still feeling like it had been pierced by a white hot knife. Several white hot knives, as the last frantic moments came up again and again.

„I won’t let this happen again. I will not let you die. I won’t. Never again,“ she said, her numb lips barely articulating the words. The feeling of rough cloth against her cheek made her aware that she was actually clinging to the elf, her face buried in his shoulder. He held her, stroking her back, like she was a little girl.

„It’s alright. I’m fine. Nothing happened. You did the right thing,“ he said softly, while in the background she became aware of Dorian explaining everything with as much technical vocabulary as possible only to rephrase every sentence. She couldn’t care less about that. She had made it back. The world was still there. She didn’t want to think about that.

All she wanted was to be held and comforted like a child. To feel Solas’s breath and heartbeat and to know that he was fine, not broken and suffering and dead. He had always been kind to her, had explained instead of ordered and judged. What others thought didn’t matter to her at this moment. Bugs, neither did how pathetic it was to collapse crying into the arms of someone to whom she shouldn’t ever have spoken to. Maybe that was why she wasn’t afraid of letting go of her restraint.

“Just let it out. Let it go. Tears are balm for the soul.”

Gretchen nodded awkwardly and clung to him, as he stroked her hair like she was a child.

 

In his long years, Solas had learned that youth had very little to do with actual age. He had seen children with ancient eyes, and the old who still carried the mischief of little pranksters in their watery, age dulled gaze.

He wasn’t all that good at guessing human ages, but he thought everyone would consider the woman who fell from the rift to be young. Her late teens, perhaps? Everything about her spoke of vulnerability, the wide eyes that took in the world with innocent fascination and not a little fear, the soft hands that bore no scars worse than a paper cut. The way she lost control of her body and responded to being comforted as if it was something she had missed for a long time. Forced to grow up without actually growing up.

There was the way she stared at him when he spoke of his journeys, the awe she showed for Varric standing up to the Seeker with a twinkle in his eye, for his way to twist words into stories. All of it spoke of youth beyond years, a sheltered upbringing aiming at making her fear the world and herself, too.

She reminded him of things long gone and too painful to allow them to be actually recalled. Given what responsibility rested in her, what power she had been given, he hoped the awareness of her own weakness could eventually become a strength before she ended up used, pulled hither and tither by the various powers wishing to profit from her.

He could not directly advise. He could not be be seen to influence her too much, it would do more harm than good. But he could teach. Like he had taught others before, long past. Comfort her, despite the dark memories. There was intelligence in those wide blue eyes, and her questions, for all their hesitancy were sharp. She had been indoctrinated in the Circle. It did nothing to quell her natural curiosity. He intended to indulge that curiosity. To give her the knowledge to draw her own conclusions. To wake. And maybe it would be enough.

But that was a thing for the future to show. For now, he held her and waited for her to calm down. Gretchen kept crying, clinging to him like a terrified child half her actual age, until eventually Solas saw Leliana approach them quietly. She gave the young woman a concerned look and reached out.


End file.
